


Twin-Sized Bed

by gerbilfluff



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Somnophilia, Unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-15
Updated: 2017-06-15
Packaged: 2018-11-14 10:07:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11205843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gerbilfluff/pseuds/gerbilfluff
Summary: Fiddleford can't sleep, and his new boss's decision to get only one bed for them both in the bunker isn't helping things.(Please do not reveal the TERRIBLE SECRET of "Twin-Sized Bed.")





	Twin-Sized Bed

Twin-Sized Bed

by Apricot the Gerbil

 

Fiddleford knew he should’ve demanded they get a bigger mattress. Knew it from the second he laid eyes on it sagging across the back seats of Ford’s van.  
  
“Only a twin?” he’d asked then, his guts clenching with vague unease. He glanced from the width of it, to the spread of Ford’s shoulders, and back again… There’d barely be enough room for his boss to curl onto his side, much less fit the both of them.  
  
It was free, Ford told him with a shrug. They needed a mattress for the bunker _now_ , and beggars couldn’t be choosers. Ford patted a foam corner, flashing that electric grin Fiddleford could never bring himself to say no to. _Besides, how many times are we going to need to sleep down in the bunker, anyhow?_  
  
Fiddleford frowned, staring ramrod-straight up at the ceiling from his half of the pillow. He felt the pull of Ford’s coffee breath tickling back and forth across his neck, mere inches away.  
  
One night spent this close to temptation was enough _._

_You’re married,_ Fiddleford reminded himself yet again, as though the words would finally convince the hot ache pounding between his legs to go away. He glanced at the fuzzy green glow from the far side of the room, squinting the alarm clock’s numbers into focus.  
  
 _1:10?!_ It’d seriously only been ten minutes since they turned in? Fiddleford caught himself before he could growl out loud. Tonight was going to take _forever._ All he could do was lie there in his undershirt and boxers and try to ignore the most ferocious boner he’d had in years, never mind his boss tugging the covers farther and farther away in his sleep.  
  
Not like Ford even needed to cover anything. He still didn’t bother changing out of his clothes when heading to bed. Just like at Backupsmore…  
  
Fiddleford fidgeted his arms against each other under his remaining corner of blanket, wondering for the umpteenth time if Ford remembered one night in particular from back then, too.   
  
He _had_ to, right? Wasn’t often you’d wake up and see your roommate standing there over your bed, fist jerking over his pecker like he was trying to start a fire.  
  
Fiddleford could still remember the way Ford’s eyes bulged white in terror to see him blinking back. That choked wail, as thin, runny strings fell from Stanford’s fist onto Fiddleford’s sheets.  
  
And then, silence. Besides the panting.  
  
Ford stammered out a mortified “Y-you didn’t see that..!” and padded across the room to burrow under his own covers, jostling stray textbooks to the floor.  
  
Fiddleford, still in shock, said nothing. He’d laid his head back onto his pillow and closed his eyes, but the throaty hitch of Ford’s release echoed inside his head, over and over. It surprised him at the time that he didn’t mind what he’d just witnessed at all. Not one solitary bit.  
  
Heck, he’d realized, as a warm blush spread over his face to match the stirring in his drawers, he kind of… _liked_ the idea. Found himself wondering if there were more times he hadn’t woken up to know about. Even ended up thinking about it whenever he got some alone time himself, after that. It gave him an unspeakable thrill to settle under the covers every night, wondering if this was the night he’d awaken to find Ford’s dick in his mouth…  
  
It never happened again, that Fiddleford knew of. So he simply never brought it up.  
  
Not even tonight, when Ford had drawn the sheets and patted what little edge of the mattress was left next to him with a cheery “Been a while since we’ve shared a bedroom, huh?” He seemed surprised when Fiddleford’s knees started trembling. Had he really forgotten?  
  
Fiddleford sure hadn’t. He stared down at the tented fabric still jutting from his lap. He’d barely been able to think of anything else all night…  
  
His fingertips paused at the waistline of his boxers.  
  
 _You’re married. You’re MARRIED. YOU’RE MARRIED._  
  
…And slid underneath.  
  
He sucked in his lower lip, trying not to bite down as he began to gently paw at himself. His britches were already far too tight, so he tugged the waistband down to let his stiffy pop free under the blanket– and flinched in guilty horror, as he jabbed his boss right in the thigh.   
  
Ford made a quiet snuffling noise, but that was all.  
  
Fiddleford stayed frozen in place for a long pause, his free hand clamped over his mouth, just to be sure. His heartbeat was thrumming so fast, it was making him dizzy. Like he could pass out at any moment. But heaven help him, did he ever feel ALIVE. _Was this what Ford was after?_ he thought as he started jerking again, softly, determined, staring at Ford’s closed lids.  
  
His eyes rolled back as he imagined a six-fingered hand clasping around his own busy one. Heard Stanford’s voice in his head, whispering to him, low and husky, like every villain he’d ever voiced in their DD&MD games: _I’ve always wanted to return the favor._  
  
The barest hint of a whine slid out of him as he felt the first fat, warm beads dribbling from his cockhead, making his grip all the more slick.  
  
 _Shut up and come for me,_ Ford demanded, tugging harder.  
  
All in his head or not, Fiddleford was plenty eager to obey him. He quivered there upon the mattress as his orgasm roared through him, with only a grunt and a muffled whimper giving him away as hot, gloppy streaks volleyed onto his undershirt.  
  
He couldn’t believe his friend hadn’t woken up from his legs’ sudden jittery earthquakes, but there wasn’t even a pause in Ford’s snoring.  
  
Resting his head back on the pillow, Fiddleford enjoyed a long, dreamy moment of bliss.  
  
Until his conscience caught up to snap at his heels. _Didn’t waste ANY time forgetting about your poor wife, did you?_ his brain nagged as he eased himself back into his boxers, still panting quietly. _Isn’t she EVER going to be good enough for you?_  
  
He never could come up with an answer to that. True, his wife and little boy were the farthest thing from what he’d ever call ‘mistakes’… but how could he have known that these feelings he had for his best friend wouldn’t end after he’d gotten married? He could’ve _sworn_ finding a girl and settling down would be a proper fix for the problem. Yet there Ford’s memory lingered, hovering at the bedside edge of his thoughts through the years, refusing to be replaced.  
  
And to see him again in person? _Lord_. Fiddleford should’ve known he was doomed, even before he packed his bags for Oregon. All the little quirks Ford had in college were still there, grown more endearing with time. The far-off looks Ford would throw to the horizon before declaring what he was about to do, shining with excitement, even if it was just mixing a new spice in with supper that night. The way he’d wiggle his fingers before picking up a book he was fond of. The thousand-watt brightness of his smile, looking up with an open-mouthed grin even if he thought nobody was there to see it, whenever he solved an equation he’d been puzzling over. His joy for exploring, joy for learning, joy for _living…_  
  
Fiddleford’s eyelids fluttered drowsily. It was getting harder to think. Probably for the best, he thought with a yawn. He felt Ford pulling the last of the blanket over to his side, leaving his own body bare in the bunker’s chill.  
  
The perfect excuse to nudge a little closer to his boss, right? Crossing his arms over the mess drying on his shirt, of course. He curled over as close as he could, bringing his cheek to rest upon Ford’s sweater vest.  
  
He hadn’t slept so soundly in ages.  
  
———  
  
Ford awoke with a snort to find his old friend snuggled up to him like a cat.  
  
 _He must not remember after all,_ Ford thought, closing his eyes in relief. _Good_.   
  
Fiddleford uttered a string of nonsense vowels in his sleep, burrowing tighter against Ford’s chest for a moment. Sweat began to prickle at Ford’s brow, as he felt himself hardening in his trousers.   
  
_Don’t even think about it. You want to scare him off for good this time?_  
  
 _But… what other way can I be with him?_ Ford frowned, shifting awkwardly against the concrete wall at his back. _Now more than ever. HE found a girl. Why would he want to be with me?_  
  
Ford watched every move of the brown head of hair under his chin like a hawk, silently easing down the zipper to his  
  
——-  
  
 _“HEY SOOS WHATCHA DOIN’!”_  
  
“Guhh–!” The handyman scrambled to cover his notebook with both meaty hands, as Stan’s niece was suddenly inches away from his face. “Mabel! Didn’t you see the sign on the door?”  
  
“Duh, _yeah_ …” she drawled, holding up the sheet of paper by its piece of tape and waggling it from side to side. “And if 'Warning: Creative Genius at Work’ isn’t like a giant HOMING BEACON for my kind of help, I don’t know what is!” She smirked at Soos’s attempt to hide the pages before him. “Ooh, writing a novel? What kind?”  
  
“Grown-up stuff,” Soos mumbled. “Look, isn’t there a collectible card game you could go play right now or something?”  
  
“Yeah, but I already ate all the foil ones,” Mabel said dourly. She perked up, adding, “Wait. Grown-up stuff? Pff, Soos, I already know all about that! Dipper and I looked it up on the Internet a long time ago.”  
  
“Y-you and Dipper?” Sweat beaded up on the back of Soos’s neck. “Gosh. Abuelita never let me go online unsupervised until last year.”  
  
“Yup. I’m _basically_ an expert on all the grown-up stuff there is,” Mabel said proudly, listing them off on her fingers. “There’s kissing, and the part where everything fades to black, and if you’re serious, there’s EVEN…” Her voice drew down to a solemn whisper. _“Butt touchin’.”_  
  
“Whew.” Soos let out a breath of relief he hadn’t realized he was holding. “Guess you know everything, all right,” he nodded, moving to nudge Mabel towards the open doorway. “So how’s about leaving this to me, a real live grown-up, and…”  
  
“Who’re you shipping?” Mabel asked him with a smile so sweet, Soos couldn’t help but tell her the truth.  
  
“Oh, you know. Ford and that scientist guy McGucket used to be, that we saw in his memory tapes. Before he went all… McGucket-y.”  
  
“Gasp!” Mabel yelled aloud, clutching her little hands to fists in excitement. “Two ultra-mega-turbo-nerds! They’re _perfect_ for each other, Soos!” She gave him a sly elbow nudge. “Lookit this guy. Playin’ matchmaker. Soon I’ll have to get tips from _you.”_  
  
“Heh heh. Well,” Soos mumbled, gopher teeth poking out from his smile at the compliment.  
  
“So how does your story end?” Mabel asked, bouncing lightly in place. “True love? Do they get married and have a million nerd babies with SCIENCE somehow?”  
  
“Nah,” said Soos. “They pretty much never cross the distance to express their feelings for each other 'till it’s too late, 'cause they’re too embarrassed about what the other one might think to bring it up.”  
  
“Aww.” Mabel’s hands dropped to her sides. She flapped her lips in a disappointed _pbthbth_. “That’s SAD. Who’d want a romance that turns out like that?”  
  
Soos glanced over at the signed photo of Stan he kept at his work station, lovingly framed.  
  
 _DEAR SOOS._  
THERE. THAT’LL BE FIVE BUCKS.  
–$  
  
“Oh, I dunno,” Soos said, lowering the brim of his cap over his eyes.  
  
  
\- fin -


End file.
